There's nothing poetic or beautiful or even remotely enlightening about what youre reading. Being a stick in the mud isn't cute or sweet.

The longings of my soul reach out for love and touch, different than those from a lover.

Lovers love is delicate yet reassuring in a way that i know, i sure as hell know, that after dinner time kisses will be upon me. Kisses, I live for those almighty beautiful kisses. They touch my cheek, peck my neck and envelope my mouth. The touch you give is like no other, no one person will be able to duplicate the love you have stored for me, the rations of love you deal out ever so generously is something that gives me great joy. I love you for all the kisses and touches and looks of love only you can give me and only I could receive. I long for you when youre not near, I imagine the moment when we reunite. I bet that particular warmth, that one tiny but paralyzing feeling you give will make time halt, but only for a second. This love has been explored, inside and out. All the petals have drawn apart so we could peer deep inside one and other, we know this love like no other love.

What holds me tight, suffocates my breathing and keeps me from moving at times is a different love all together. The love of my painter, sculptor and conductor. This love you have in your hands, your love shines brighter than any dark. If I lose my way your light beckons. Your light looks like salvation, feels like the spring sun, melting away all cold and smells in such a delightful way I don't think I could ever tell you. The love of your light is one yet to be understood, thoroughly explored or felt from the depths of my soul. Im writing for you, please find me, my God.

Sit and wait, I shall.

Originally.....The Swan - Camille Saint-Saëns

Carefully, tediously and carefully am I choosing my words for a piece of music, an essence of life so beautiful only the soul truly knows what to say. For you....

eggs and toast for breakfast. spanish rice for lunch. hopefully dinner is something nice.

what does it feel like?

to feel nothing at all. 6 pounds heavier, falling faster to the bottom of my soul. too exhausted to work for the bottom so let me just fall.

twentynothings

Another tooth fell out from my mouth, just fell right to the floor leaving a gooey hole sized playground to keep my tongue active. Last week i lost a tooth and the week before that I said goodbye to another canine friend. My teeth fall deep and far inside my conscious while im cycling through REM, a trauma lacking physical evidence but a trauma none the less. I am screaming at myself, wake up and realize what youre missing! I always wake up and am reassured by smooth enamel, my heart stops and I breath, but than I remember my sub conscious is still missing a tooth, missing a something.

They say all you must do is say, say what you want, say what you need, say what you feel and say what you see. The more I say the more I feel like im spraying locusts and slow death out of a mouth that only intends to speak what I know. What I know never seems as harsh until I say, say, say it aloud and watch the earth sprawl.

oh g-d, where?

Here I am. Where are you? Should I open up first so you will feel more comfortable yourself?

Your silence is my answer. Okay, so here I am losing part of myself on a couch in a town that appreciates a room full of things upon things. Where did all the words go? Why do you forget about all of those words stored up so deep inside of you? Theyve been fermenting all these years, Im sure they are ready to be devoured, devoured by another soul that is trust worthy, wont judge you and will leave you with a hug that touches your toes.

Keeping my mouth shut and sealed is easy for me as long as I have you by my side. I can confide in you and hide in you, so far I can go inside you, be drenched by you, be consumed by your love. My mouth stays shut and my self locked up to everyone else but you?

Can I tell you my secrets and than whisper me your own? Maybe even shout them, secrets only know boundaries when they are whispered. The answer to this question is clearly a no. We cannot connect because I already have my gatekeeper whose ear stays close to my side.

What is truth if light is never breathed unto it?

look at this shit!

the more we question the existence we've been fooled into believing the sooner we can talk about the existence we were meant to live. free information has been, is and always will be the start and continuation of the revolution. my friend, ellis, found this website and I 100% back it. please read it, share it and talk about it. the revolution is not a lonely one.

Anarchy Archives

cant get high

Where did up go? Down is buried beneath books and tears the size of earth worms, please dont forget the endless words and prayers sprinkled on top. Dont confuse, sadness is miles away. Truth is whats near, stalking just as I've asked. Shit, I asked for it. No one to carry me through while I shut my eyes. I won't know with my skin over my vision. Jesus(?).

Truth is an asshole, rearing it's head, breaking the womb of disillusion and globalization im nestled in. This is nothing new, the worlds been at the same old tricks for centuries. Our bodies are just not use to a single word of truth, the smell of life, the blinding light of who we really are. Why we are. The world is laughing at us, same shit different century is what ze would say if ze could talk.

q not p...seriously

Im sorry to say but I never really tell you where my mind is when you ask. My words are too venomous to utter or getting into it means just not getting it and that's almost too much for me to handle. Your eyes are so small and your blinks too quick to see all that is living right before you. Blaming you for this would be as complex as blaming the ocean for it's dark matter. Killing softly, quietly and mercilessly without a cork or a net. Without blame comes a blurry resolve and all that is left is our hopeless platform of grey.

Stretch out your limbs and watch all their little nails vibrate with fullness as the sun jumps from keratin bed to keratin bed bouncing new, human life into the world around. Do you feel goose bumps when you know? All else matters because this is all that matters.

.....you say it all means nothing

this is so sad to me

Light that just isn’t enough leaves us cold, colder than we were ever, ever told/

loneliness is meant to be spent alone/

so just leave me alone/

Remember when I whispered I love you and you said I know.

I wanted to know too/

Loves goes cold and hearts grow dark and here I am holding yours/

I wanted to make you happy but I’m so so empty/

Will I ever be filled?/

Please fill me, please please please/

Your eyes are full with love, love that shouldnt be meant for me/

Please empty them, please. please please/

Your love for me is more than mine will ever ever be.

loneliness is meant to be spent alone/

so please just leave me alone

My tact was accidently flushed down the toilet with my tampon and I tripped over my grace on the way out of the ladies room.

flea bites

there are so many freaks in my life.. freaks full of love that can't ever shut up, they just gotta love. freaks and their fireworks, your sparks are making me clasp my hands over my eyes and turn my body in an attempt to not get burned. freaks that forget up is up and not hidden in the drain in between old hair and your forgotten wedding ring.

i think im a societal nihilist and a spiritual believer. i want to be really honest about how beautiful forgiveness and reconciliation is but im afraid that you'll laugh at me. last night was wonderful and i love the ocean and the stars like i love you. profound beauty in your words and your waves. ill keep thinking.

Writing is kind of like an opiate for me and it really only works well when im in some sort of pain. I've been confused, frantic and pissed this week but not enough pain for me to resort to writing. Learning how to write when life is right is something I need to work on.

Tonight I made a raunchy joke to the boy I use to share my bed sheets with, maybe we're becoming friends. I also held a baby and shared the sensation of curiosity with him while we listened to a thunder storm together. I've spent my childhood as an adult and all im really looking to do now is spend my adulthood as a child on drugs. My life goals and aspirations start there and end there, plus the Godhead.

The Godhead is insane to me, it started out as a hilarious few words bunched together while playing the game "things" and has ended up transforming my life. God is not cool and it is not cool to talk about God much less blog about God. But here I am, about to God blog. I was never apart of the "in" crowd any how. God is my truth. He is a concept, a thing, a being (not quite a person) that I have been trying to understand since I was 8. He's always been around me and always will be, even when I told him to fuck off. I'm traveling to Germany and than back to Montana this year to understand this truth that is still partially a mystery to me. Sometimes I think I've lost my mind, pursuing this unknown source of life but in doubt, no matter how long of a period of time the doubt lasts for, I always return to knowing that seeking is the only way I can live. I'm here to search for life, everything I do is dedicated to this search.

Do you want to see something fucked up?

This collage was created by my 15 year old brain. Who the fuck says this is O.K?

needed it

Writing whatever I know

I know that sitting on my desk right now are turtle bones, toiletries to hide dudes smelling bad all around me everyday, a key to my classroom, shears, a bowl that's cashed and taco bell hot sauce. There is no body visible outside my window. Im listening to The Microphones. Today was hard, everyday is a little hard these weeks. Music and art are saving me, keeping life normal for me. Im accepting that this point in my life will be just a memory soon enough. Im still growing, still growing, growing, growing, growing. God, am I growing? God I am growing.

My laundry is always stained with food and blood.

bird poop

My life is really normal this weekend. My life is really noisy this weekend. A symphony of screaming voices is constantly emerging from every member of my family at all hours except for bunny hours. I could get use to this? I couldn't get use to this. My ex-lover and I laughed together yesterday. The last memories I had of him was running mascara running all my clothes. Laughing with him seemed absurd, until yesterday. Everything is interesting.

parallel lives

I finally had my roll of film developed only to find a whole other load of photos were occupying my role.  No double exposure....just pictures of body lovin' women at a party showing off their lingerie presents.  Oh, and cake.  There was cake.  My camera ate my pictures.  I'll post them soooon.

all that really matters right now...

Ariel Pink forever.

drunk please

when im drunk the world is my oyster, my game board.  i get it, i live it and i play it well.  im not afraid of honesty and no one else is, either.  im understood and its understood that we all are, we don't need anything else.  i wake up most mornings hoping to still be drunk and not alone.  

a stream of nothing

Bridging the gap of the unknown and making it your known is a release, a relief and liberating as fuck.  A loud voice voicing words that are not my own.  Everythings alright, right? Ruthless, astonishing stills flash through my conscious.  Breathtaking moments remind to breath.  Im afraid to write at all sometimes, devaluing the images that I take in everyday, the thoughts I carry with me in silence.  I cry when I think of love but all I want is fun

listen to this and look at that

Maurizio Anzeri creates beautiful embodied photographs.  They haunt me.

im about to shit out this fucked up belief that i've been holding on to for years.  

spooky camera

pictures of cameras instead of pictures is kinda weird but im really excited on this baby.  got her at the village for next to nothin'.  when i bought the camera she was loaded with fresh film so i did a test run at lous last night.  i think i got some really interesting photos and ill be bummed if they turn into nothing.

my entire life has been spent searching for an outlet.  ive had temporary releases that always result in boredom and put me into this voided reality for awhile after. 

 im not bored yet.  

asshole

totally devoid of love.  i never discovered love or my capabilities to do so.  a lot of tricks on my conscious made me believe.  

 
   

cats are people 2

Cats say the darnedest things.  My cat tried explaining to me today his thoughts on string theory and why water from the toilet is better than water in his mini bowl

please, accept the mystery

My hands have been creating all the things my brain has been desiring and that is really all I can ask for.  Three year olds drive me crazy but these people are the only people I want to be working with day in and day out.  Moms deserve lovin' and a sweet patch or two to add to there L.L Bean jackets, too.  

first week of school

Lutherans know how to get down, and pretty damn low at that.  Last night I went to my jobs (Trinity Lutheran School) Valentines Day party and got totally shit faced with all my superiors.  You really learn quite a bit about people after 3 or 4 cups of hunch punch and a punishing amount of beer from too many games lost in beer pong.  The director of my school threw us all for a spin with her cart wheels and smack talk in the schools gym.  She also knew how to get her twirl on when the hired cover band encouraged the teachers to get rowdy with throwbacks like Jimmy Buffet covers, Tom Petty and a nice dose of "Sweet Home Alabama".  

It's funny how quickly I saw all of my friends turn into our parents with a little bit of hard liquor, who am I kidding A LOT bit of hard liqour, and a cheesy ass cover band.  We all participated in singing our hearts out with exaggerated passion and shakin' our booties like we haven't had a night out without the kids in years.  Eric quickly took to socializing with all of the fellow teachers and and lost so hard in beer pong against the toddler class teacher, Mary.  The pastor of the school was fearful of our "colorful" table, we became the group with the "drawings on our arms" and were unapproachable to the pastor.  

Towards the end of the night I lost control of my stomach and finished throwing up right as the head teacher of my classroom walked in on me.  She was mostly sympathetic but jesus christ, it was only my first week!  I'm interested to see how monday plays out, maybe we'll make hunch punch gatherings a more frequent occurrence. All i can say is; We brought that party.  

arms wrapped without a body

happiness is fleeting.  i can't escape sadness.  every time i look in the mirror and i remember who i am and reasons to be sad.  three year olds laughter and kisses along with my sketch pad make me forget i was ever sad.  i just remember unhappiness far too often.  what's normal?

tofuttme

Getting mad at missing mugs becomes the only way to truly get mad without feeling guilty. 

You really shouldn't be spared but sometimes we're cowards.

My head bone is connected to my....toe?

It’s bizarre how, after a whole year of experimenting with new ways to better love a body that is all mine I’ve become so confused and detached with the being I’ve been trying to connect to.  As I was riding my bicycle today I looked down at my legs and couldn’t remember their familiarity but instead became repulsed with what I saw: a strangers calves straining under the push and pull of my bike, thighs that barely looked like something I would call my own and ankles jutting out from a pair of already imprinted shoes.  

Years ago I spent all my time devoted to understanding the inner workings of my body to help create an appealing aesthetic for myself and others to marvel at.  I would do leg presses and squats too many times a day while guzzling down muscle milk for breakfast and diet pills for dinner trying to achieve an outcome that would hopefully inspire oneness from the inside out.  This ended up being a failure and equated to me never being satisfied with the results my body was able to give.  This disease that infected me, a “need” for beauty and acceptance based on my appearance began to wear at me. I’ve spent this year trying to love my body for all the beautiful things it cant help but do.  I havent dieted , I havent shaved the hair that so eagerly sprouts out of my pours and I havent tried as hard as some to hide the odors it emits.  

This has lead me to, still, an extreme disconnection with the parts that are my own.  A straight up unfamiliarity that’s disturbing.  I began to consider the possibility of loving my body for its capabilities instead of what is seen from the outside.  My body is capable of writing letters to people I love, propelling forward to arrive at a destination, swining my hips to the beat of the sounds my ears can hear, smelling and tasting and chopping a meal for myself and friends but really and mostly just love.  One day when my senses start to fail and my bones lose all desire to carry or chop one more thing I will have the memory of my bodies once beautiful capability that lives on through myself and others minds, love love love.

Maybe everyday I can remember to love my body for its capabilities and eventually love the flesh that covers my arteries.  

Balance. Moderation. Get Fucked.

On friday I crossed the sands in a dodge neon.  We drifted through a hazy sand storm that left me blind to the world in front of us but opened my eyes to all the corners of my brain that I have successfully  hidden out of cruelty.  Ive been punishing myself, throwing away keys to doors and secret trap ways that once  brought me happiness...freedom.  I had been so fearful to let my body go, let my thoughts go to just go and go and go.  

Anyways, we traveled sunburnt and sand whipped with smiles spread so thick across our faces. We were on a journey without a clear destination, maybe only really a mirage.  The harvest moon came and peeked her orange peel head out of the trees and teased us for miles.  She finally gave in and let us glimpse full on in all her glowing and enticing beauty  There was nothing more sensual to me than that moon that night.  Lusty moons for lust young minds.  

Miriam WOsk is a genius

My nerves are all worn out from everyone rattling them this week. I've got no more fucks to give, not a single.  This is nice.

I've been doodling and writing and making my friends mixes this week and I've been feeling more like myself.  Sharing is one of the greatest joys I think I've experienced. 

I was reading my journal last night and shouldn't I have grown bits and bunches by now? I tihnk im regressing and becoming more and more detached from myself and everyone around me. Insecurities have gripped me by the throat and the only way to squirm away and stand on two feet is to slice those buggers in half and violently (just in case you were wondering).

My goal is to love people but how the fuck can I love anyone if I havent come to full terms with just loving myself. I use to stand tall and could quickly rebuke harsh words with a confidence and love for myself that I kept close and tidy at all times. The dust has settled and I can no longer see myself, I have some major cleaning up to do and there is no better way to change the future than to start today. So I'm making a proposal to myself (a signature is not necessary) and it's starting to look like this:

1. Breath alone for at least 10 minutes every morning and every evening.
2. Write as much as comes naturally every day without faltering.
3. Step outside of my house and be around/observe others around me and stop being such a sensitive hermit.
4. Go to the places I want to be and do things I care about every day
a.more shows more music
b.Quaker House
c.fnb
d.leu gardens
e.library
f-z. i'll let them fill in.
5. Pray.
6. do/say scary things at least once a day.
7. Create everything I've always wanted to create.
8. Save up all my money for Montana,
9. Finish every book I ever started and have only been able to love a quarter of.
10. Zen the fuck out of my house (i.e clean clean clean, good smells, food, fix shower)